


Conjugal Visits

by MySoCalledAngst



Category: Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Romance, Descriptions of gore, F/M, Will Add As Needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27961766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MySoCalledAngst/pseuds/MySoCalledAngst
Summary: His escape from Memphis thwarted, Doctor Hannibal Lecter finds himself in the company of Agent Clarice Starling once more. Not by chance, she sought him out, looking to work alongside him. A series of moments shared between two individuals who share some of their stars.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling
Comments: 27
Kudos: 84





	1. Reunite

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, six years ago, I published a story under the same title on another website. If you’ve been in the Clannibal space as long as I have, you may have read it. Let me just apologize if you had, it wasn’t my best work... not my worst either. I don’t ask you to read it, my reading of it while re-working the contents was more than enough pain for all of us. I wanted to let you all know that, if anything is familiar, I’m only ripping off myself. 
> 
> Within this rewrite, you may find themes that are similar and some that are different. I’ve removed large portions, added new concepts, and some things have stayed just the same. 
> 
> Please, enjoy. Bon appetite.

The company decided to wait until after her ceremony to inform Clarice Starling that Doctor Lecter had been recaptured. His escape from Memphis, as elaborate and brilliant as it was, fell short when a green TSA agent got lucky. As he was checking Lecter’s belongings, in a small grey tub, the news flashed a photo of his face. 

And just like that, all of his work had been undone.

Tackled, zip-tied, dehumanized. Swat arrived in a flurry, quick to slap stronger cuffs on him, heavy and thick metal. Doctor Lecter did not speak the entire way back to the hospital he hailed from, it seemed like the safest place for him. A judge took one look at his escape and added thirty-six years to his endless sentence. Hospital, arraignment, hospital, court, and back to hospital as no other institution was equipped to handle him. 

Starling couldn’t explain what pulled her, what inspired her to even _ask_ Jack Crawford for the assignment. To spend the summer in Baltimore, get her past Chilton, and she swore she could collect information. Clarice insisted on using the gift she had, the gift to uphold conversations with the good doctor, that he would cooperate with her and they could have his brilliant mind on their side. 

Clarice and Jack knew that his mind would truly be on **her** side. The fact that Jack would simply benefit seemed like semantics. 

Behavioural Science was glad to fund it, Baltimore far from the ideal location for a student, the likes of Miami or Spain far more expensive of an endeavour. It took a few weeks, but Clarice found herself in a small apartment, a ten minute drive from the hospital, with enough notepads and blank tapes to last the summer. 

Chilton was on holiday, somewhere warm, peddling a novel all about his hero antics that aided the capture of Buffalo Bill. The interim keeper of house saw no harm, shaking Starling’s hand while mentioning how thrilled he was to have such a rising star grace their grounds. He did not peer at her as Chilton had. Barney looked just the same, with his white jacket and kind smile. He set up a chair for her, as he always had. He quickly looked through her bag. His eyebrow quirked at the mess of her purse. They both knew the rules and Clarice wanted to use them to her full advantage this time around.

The walk down the stone hallway was different. No other resident lined the cages to her left, no one for Doctor Lecter to play with. As Clarice passed Migg’s cell, she thought of the phone call she received, how the rush of warmth followed by chill set inside her core when Crawford had uttered the words to her; _Miggs is dead, Lecter killed him_. 

The thought was gone as the cell was behind her. Glass walls came into her vision.

Doctor Lecter sat upon his cot, nose in a book. Pretending to be blissfully unaware of her presence, slowly turning his head as the fall of her heels suddenly ceased.

“Agent Starling, what a pleasant surprise.” Doctor Hannibal Lecter eyed her from above his book. 

Clarice gave him a polite smile, pink stained lips curving up, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Lecter. Sorry for interrupting your reading.” Her accent still clung on, that particular West Virginian twang interlaced through her words.

Doctor Lecter withheld a smirk. That accent he had tortured her for when they first met, as harsh as he had been, had never been a true point of contention. No, he found it rather interesting, how she did her best to hide it from his trained ear. He would admit, in the deeper recesses of his Memory Palace in a room made _just_ for her... well, he found it endearing at times.

Slowly, he placed his bookmark into the crease, stacking the book upon four others in perfection. He ran a finger, the same finger that had touched her in Memphis, down the spines to ensure they were even. Only then did he fully turn to her, standing, arms straight to his side.

“No need for apologies, Agent Starling. I’m afraid I have it memorized,” Doctor Lecter smiled then “, sit, please.”

Clarice nodded, accepting his cue. She placed her bag to the floor beside her, crossing on leg atop another. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such company? Another killer on the rise? Perhaps Jackie boy has another survey he’d like me to attempt. I’ve been working on my origami.”

“I don’t _really_ have any pressing matters, Doctor. That’s why I’m so sorry to have interrupted you.”

“Slippery as ever, I see.”

Clarice bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the temptation to look away from his piercing gaze. 

“I heard about Memphis. I was... curious as to how you were. With Chilton gone, I figured now was the time. You know, I was shocked to hear you got caught. If anyone had a chance of escaping that much security? Well, it’s definitely Doctor Lecter.”

“Even best laid plans can never truly calculate for sheer misfortune. Your vote of confidence has not gone unnoticed.”

“When I heard about the details of how, I was almost impressed, if so many lives hadn’t been lost.”

“It was the cost of escape, Clarice. Do not put the weight of my slaughtered lambs on your shoulders.” At that, she closed her eyes and nodded. 

“What were you reading?” She asked, thankful when he did not goad her about her sudden swapping of subjects. 

“ _The Devine Comedy_. An easy read, a touch overhyped in the eyes of foolish college boys, but a beautiful story with the right eye. I’m certain you’ve read it?”

“Bits and pieces, I know of it. Never sat down and read it cover to cover and when I was a student, I didn’t have the time. You have it memorized, you said?”

“Oh yes, Chilton hasn’t given me new books in three years. I know the ones I have rather well.”

“With Chilton gone, has it gotten any better?”

“He holds the same contempt for me as Freddy.”

“I’m sorry to hear,” Clarice huffed “, _really_. You deserve new books.”

“Hmm... you’ve yet to answer my question, **Agent** Starling. Certainly you wouldn’t have made the trip, simply to see my welfare was up to par.”

Clarice considered her answers. She could barely get away with lying to him as is, now would not be the time. She would have to wait for the right question to get away with it. Clarice knew that honesty would always be the best policy.

“I was hoping to continue to learn from you. We make an interesting team. Catherine Martin’s life is safe, in part because of you, and I know you haven’t received as much thanks as I have.”

“Are _you_ thanking me, Agent _Starling_?” His tone sent a shiver down her spine; she would insist it was due to misplaced fear.

“I am. Thank you for helping me and being apart of saving her life.”

“May I say, then, that I have all the thanks I need.”

They shared a moment of silence, a content weight settling in the basement chambers.

“Well, aside from Memphis and the new doctor, how have you been fairing?”

“Trying on your therapist hat, Clarice?”

“Oh, _no_. Of course not-“

“I’m _teasing_.”

“You don’t just _tease_.”

“I have been no better, nor worse, than before. I read my five books, watch that terrible gospel program. I chat with Barney, occasionally I help him study for his exams. I exorcise in my pen and eat the terrible food.”

"Exercise _pen_?" Clarice's face contorted, images of a hamster wheel on a decrepit farm coming to mind.

“Oh, yes. A concrete box. Occasionally, if the time is right, the sun comes through the windows. Only in the early morning, I’m afraid. They don’t bother to clean the glass, you see.”

Clarice furrowed her brow. 

“Perhaps you could meet me there, someday. We’ll stroll beneath fluorescent light, while guards strapped in riot gear glare from afar. It’s almost like being alone, the guards are far too fearful to approach.” He spoke with his own mark of whimsy. 

“I don’t blame them for their hesitance,” Clarice leaned forward in her chair “, you did bite the tongue off a nurse.”

“Now _that_ is an interesting anecdote, Clarice. Chilton does enjoy telling that story to all who will listen. Might you be interested in my side?”

“Of course, Doctor.”

“She was hardly a saint, as nurses like to believe they are. One evening, she and a few of her colleagues from the upper floor decided to come and gawk at the beast in the basement. Have you ever been ogled, like an animal held captive? I suppose you have, the only difference being that you roam free while men leer from the fence. _Surely_ you see my point, Agent Starling, and understand my ethical code.”

“I’m struggling, but I’m trying to understand.” Another truth; she wanted to _understand_. To be the one inside his mind and not the other way around.

“In due time, I’m sure,” Doctor Lecter added a wink with his smile, as he had the first time they had met “, if your desire is to learn, I recommend Dante’s Inferno. In fact, I consider it required reading. Please, take my copy. Barney won’t mind, I assure you.”

Doctor Lecter grabbed the novel, pushing it through the drawer. As she had before, as she had been instructed **not** to do, Clarice took the book. She held it in her hands, running her fingertips along the worn cover. 

“Please, don’t concern yourself with returning it. Consider it a gift.” He added, leaning against the table, within distance of touching her shoulder had glass not been between them. 

“Thank you,” she smiled genuinely, placing the book in her purse. She quirked her brow, making a small, satisfied noise when she pulled a larger book from her bag. Paper back, slightly worn “, I finished this on the plane over here. Something new to memorize.” She bid him fair well and curtsied softly, sliding the door shut and left. Clarice looked back for a moment, only when she was certain he could not see. 

Doctor Lecter had heard the hesitance in her step. Curious, he looked into the drawer. A soft covered copy of _The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud_ sat within the metal. 

“An interesting team we do make indeed.” He mumbled, as he heard the bars to the corridor open and close.

Barney made no mention of the book exchange, merely acknowledging the Doctor had no more or less books than when she arrived, and that would be enough for inventory.


	2. Resuscitation

It had been a good morning. The coffee shop got her order correct, she was running ahead of schedule, and she had three manila folders in her bag sent from Crawford. Three cases he was certain herself and the good doctor could solve in one session. Clarice had felt light until she began to descend the steps to the high security quarters. 

A red lights blinked on and off in the hallway. Clarice heard clinking and clanging of something as Barney was begging one of his colleagues to help him. Clarice hurried her step, tossing her bag onto his desk and began to roll up her sleeves. 

“Barney? What’s the matter?” Clarice called over the ringing bell. 

Barney turned from his position, one hand still on the metal bars, one foot down the first step. A look of relief washed over his features and he stepped towards her, his meaty hand gently grabbing her arm. 

“Miss Starling, please come with me.”

As she was pulled, her eyes caught a glimpse of the security feed. Several angles all showing the one occupant of the floor. 

Time slowed as she saw Doctor Lecter on the floor of his cell, unmoving, his limbs sprawled out undignified and lacking control. Clarice took in a small gasp, wiping away a bead of sweat from her temple. 

Down the stairs she went, Barney’s hold on her as tender as she could’ve imagined he was, yet conveyed an urgency that left her heart speeding. 

“-other nurses, they aren’t bad people, they’re just scared of him. They don’t treat him nice and after the nurse-“

“I understand. What do you need me to do?”

“You have first aid training? CPR?”

“Academy granted.”

“And you’re the only other person on the grounds who won’t be terrified to get close.”

“I’m plenty terrified.” Clarice huffed, her eyes trained on the Doctor as Barney pulled the locks free. 

With squinted eyes, she watched. His chest remained still, fluttering every so often, as if he was fighting for breath. It made her own throat constrict, her hands itching to do something. Barney had bent his knee and pulled the lower locks open, the manual fail safe to the technology above. 

“Unsure of the cause, he collapsed roughly thirty seconds ago. 

“Think the other nurses had a leg to stand on? Think he’s fakin’?” Her accent bared thick through her words. 

“Could be, but I won’t let him go without. I know you won’t either, Miss Starling.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Clarice bit her lip “, let’s do ‘er.”

He flung the door open, the glass rattling under the immense strength the nurse possessed. She was quick on his heels, peeling her jacket off, kneeling opposite to Barney on the Doctor’s right side. 

Clarice allowed her emergency medical training to take over. Two fingers on his neck, searching for the prize, letting out an audible exhale when she had. 

“Low, real low, but he’s got a pulse.” Clarice placed a hand atop his head, peaking around where his skull laid. No blood. She let her hand stroke back, his hair silk upon her palm; no signs of a damaged skull either. 

Barney opened his mouth, making mention of nothing lodged within his throat. The Doctor’s lungs seemed to stutter, lacking oxygen. Clarice furrowed her brows, the pulse beneath her fingers beginning to wane. 

The hallway lights flickered, and Clarice looked around. 

“It’s the signal from the hub, medics are on their way.”

“Good. Pulse is droppin’. Start compressions and keep ‘em comin’, I’ll administer rescue breaths.”

She counted silently, her lips moving with each compression Barney performed. At six, Clarice pinched the bridge of the Doctor’s nose, and covered his lips with her own. One thought emerged; he was _chilled_. Twice she breathed life into his lungs, then pulled back, and began to count the compressions once more.

“Not too much longer, Doctor. Stay with me.” Her voice was breathless, repeating her statement for good measure while looking at his eyelids.

Her fingers stayed trained. Four rounds of CPR and his pulse began to strengthen. Clarice couldn’t help the small sound of joy that escaped when the Doctor’s chest moved on its own, and colour returned to his paling features.

Blurs of black, tall bodies. Heavily armoured medics grabbed Doctor Lecter and strapped him to a gurney. Clarice stayed close behind, Barney not far behind her, flashing her credentials when they man in charge attempted to shoo her away. 

“I’ll need to speak with him after.” Clarice stood firm and it bought her way into the waiting room. Barney was her plus one, Clarice insisting they’ll want a nurse trusted to Doctor Lecter to do any of the heavy lifting. 

The duo made for a sightly pair; a petite pale woman and burly, handsome black man. It had garnered strange looks, when he placed a hand upon her shoulder, his paw so large that he covered the expanse of flesh. He thanked for her helping him and applauded her for the bravery she displayed. 

“You saw ‘em. Men twice your size were scared to do what you did. Probably why you’re such a great agent.” His words were friendly in nature, no strings or innuendos behind it. It made Clarice crack a smile, bringing up her own hand to place atop his, her appendage a fraction of the size. 

“I’ll lend them some of my bravery if _you_ can spare some of that unwavering calm demeanour of yours.” Clarice felt it was only right to compliment him back. Barney struck her as the kind of man who didn’t receive much praise for all the good he did. 

Hours passed, some of it with small talk and some with thumbing through ancient magazines. Three hours later, they both stood in unison as the brunette woman assigned to Doctor Lecter emerged from the staff only halls.

“We found nothing out of place. Blood work was good, his scans were clear, nothing in the brain or lungs to be concerned of. Unfortunately, we can’t tell what caused the episode. Our advice is to keep an eye on his oxygen level, make sure he isn’t lethargic. I’m terribly sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance. I assume you two and the police will be returning him to Baltimore State, yes?” She didn’t look up from Doctor Lecter’s chart as she spoke, rattling off from the notes she took in a thick English accent. 

"Yes, we’ll be transporting him once the authorities are prepared.” Barney confirmed with a smile. The female doctor finally looked up, smiling back, turning on her red bottomed heels. 

“Wait, ma’am! I’m from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. If I could have five minutes with Doctor Lecter?”

“I don’t see why not,” She nodded, beckoning Clarice to follow “, just through here. He is drugged at the moment, you may not get coherent answers. My nurses will take it from here.”

Clarice watched as she left, giving a nod to the riot geared cops and medics outside of his door. She slipped inside, clasping the door quietly behind her before taking in the sight.

He was resting, his eyes closed and face lax. At his sides, his hands were in restraint, a faint shade of purple from the unnecessary tightness. It made Clarice sigh, knowing how far those with a badge would go to show their power in a situation.

Clarice walked forward, placing her hands on the end of the hospital bed, the plastic frame housing strings of electronic wire. For a moment, she observed how his chest lifted and fell in rhythm. 

“I know you’re awake.” She did not know, but it was a fifty-fifty shot she was willing to take.

“A keen eye,” Doctor Lecter opened his eyes “, would you do me the small favour of loosing these bindings?”

“I agree they’re too tight,” Clarice conceded “, but given the circumstance, I’ll have to deny you that favour. You’ll be getting out of here soon, though.”

"Then I’ll thank you for even considering it.”

Clarice took a deep breath in, then out. It was strange, to be so close with nothing in between. It had been different in his cell, even pressing her lips to his, she had felt protected with Barney by her side. 

“So... did you fake it?” Clarice had to know. The question elicited a low chuckle from the Doctor. 

“The true question here, Agent Starling, is do _you_ think I faked it?”

“And you call me the slippery one.”

“And I will again, as you are being so now.”

“Yes,” Clarice tightened her grip on the footboard “, I think you faked it.”

“I suppose we may never know the truth. One of life’s beautiful mysteries, yes? I must say, it’s been a rather exciting day for you. I suggest you take flight, Little Starling, and get some well deserved rest.”

She considered pressing on the matter, but he had been right. The idea of a legendary verbal fencing match didn’t match with the amount of gas she had in the tank. Clarice tapped her fingers against the bed before offering him a nod, and turned towards the door. 

Just as her hand reached out to the handle, she heard him speak. 

“Oh, Agent Starling? Just one more thing.”

Clarice turned, her eyebrows up. 

“Watermelon lip chap? Painfully juvenile, yet in this instance, I’m willing to offer you a _pass_ of sorts. It’s made your lips rather soft.”

Clarice’s lips felt open, then she closed them again. Her eyes brows stayed up, blinking at him and his overly confident expression. Slowly, she turned, leaving the room without a word. 

When the door had clasped shut, she leaned her back against the door. Suddenly, for just a moment, she felt short of breath


	3. Exorcise

“He’s exorcising now,” The interim head of hospital offered “, come along.”

Clarice followed down the foreign halls. She trained her eyes on the architecture of the old building, admiring the arches they passed through. Unlike his cell, the exorcise room was on the ground floor. An old cafeteria that had been remodelled just for him. 

To her surprise, multiple men stood at the door, their conversation haunting when he bopped her way into the group. 

“You’ll get ten minutes,” the interim head spoke once more “, as this is an interview for the FBI, we’ll allot for the mandatory confidentiality act. You’ll be alone with him, all the same rules apply.”

“Don’t cross the red marker on the floor,” a guard spoke up “, we’ll be right out here. Just give us a shout if you get worried.”

“Of course.” Clarice nodded with her most polite smile. 

Another guard held the door for her. She thanked him and stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the room, nothing but a sea of grey and concrete, aside from the red outline surrounding him. 

Doctor Lecter stood with his back to her, halfway around a lap. He stopped when the door closed behind him. 

Clarice looked up to the best, watching the lone guard in the room give her a nod of recognition before exiting from the door just behind him. She could hear the rifle slap on his hip as he walked.

Unlike the guards believed, the novelty of being ‘alone’ with Doctor Lecter no longer affected her. Perhaps she had only convinced herself, but Clarice felt if Doctor Lecter had wished to bring her harm, he would’ve broken her mind long ago. Better yet, he could’ve dared to track her down after his great Memphis escape. Clarice had dreamed many times, in between the screaming lambs, of coming home to find him in her kitchen. 

With confidence in her step, Clarice moved down the room, walking along the thick red oval. 

“You’ve went ahead an upgraded your shoes. Would that be my influence?” Doctor Lecter spoke without turning. 

“I _needed_ new business casual shoes, there was a _sale_ at a particularly upscale outlet, and I _may_ have used a month’s per diem on them.” It was easier to be lighthearted when his eyes weren’t burrowing into her own. 

“Bra _vo_ , Clarice. I believe in celebrating all acts of rebellion, no matter how small.”

Finally, he turned. Doctor Lecter stalked along the floor, his eyes trained upon her feet. He gestured to her legs, his eyebrow up. Clarice sighed, but gave in, moving in a circle so he may observe and judge her taste.

“You’re on the right track with those. Keep up the fine choices. What have you brought today?”

“I was hoping you’d be interested in building a profile with me.” From her messenger bag, she produced a manila envelope. 

“You know the rules, Agent Starling. Certainly, you haven’t been granted much time, so I suggest we get started. Tell me about our suspect.” Doctor Lecter began to walk and Clarice fell in line beside him. 

Clarice opened the folder, flicking through the photographs for him while she explained the depravity of the particular man they were hunting. A violent sexual deviant, who started by targeting teenage girls, but graduated to destroying what seemed to be any woman who crossed his sights. A man who relishes in suffering, allowing what Clarice believed to be every fifth victim live; a man who likely kept tabs on them, to watch how they suffer. Doctor Lecter didn’t flinch at the photographs, but she was certain she had seen a grimace on his lips. Clarice hoped he was just as disgusted as she was, that his own sense of justice and hers would align in just the right way, that he would be compelled to give her the clue she needed to make the break. 

The did a full lap, Lecter listening the whole way, then savouring the information before speaking. 

“Tell me, how has the job been treating you?”

“Hard tonal shift, there,” Clarice straightened up when he tossed her a side eyed glance “, it’s been work. Rewarding, tiring. It got me here, and it certainly is something, to be working alongside you.”

“Flattery, for me? Don’t get too desperate, now, Agent Starling.”

“Hardly flattery, Doctor. It’s public knowledge, you being revered for your psychiatry. Even considering your _crimes_... well, it would be foolish not to see how exciting of an opportunity this is.”

“I retract my earlier statement, then. I’m satisfied knowing you took my advice and you’re getting more fun out of life.”

“Sure, it’s fun, but it isn’t forever. In a few months, I’ll be back at the base, doing drug busts and paperwork. I can’t imagine the desk duty could be anywhere near as exciting, but that’s how it is.”

“Is it not how you choose to see it? Or, what you have been taught to see? Surely, you must think there is more than waning and waxing thrills.”

“Aren’t we playing a game, Doctor? By my count, you owe me three answers.”

“My apologies, please.”

“Try to keep it rapid fire. From what we’ve discussed, is there anything I’m wrong about?”

“Two things. That’s one.”

“What _are_ they?”

“Target selection and mutilation. That’s two, Clarice.”

“Why am I wrong about target selection?”

“Your concern for his random selection is misplaced. Yes, the ages and races differ, but there is nothing _random_ about his practice. It’s rather sloppy, once you decipher it. I’m afraid that’s three,” Doctor Lecter stopped walking and turned to Clarice “, my turn. What's your favorite colour?"

"My favorite colour." She had stopped too, confusion upon her features.

"Your favorite colour." He reinforced his point with a slight nod of the head.

"You… want to know my favorite colour. You’ve asked how work has been and now you want to know my-" Clarice gave him a deadpan look.

"Favourite colour. Yes, I’m failing to understand why you’re confused."

"And that's all?"

"Quite."

Clarice looked over the Doctor once more who was staring straight into her eyes, seriousness plaguing his face. He was winding up for something, she could feel it in the air. Clarice took notice that he had stopped at the far end of the room, her eyes flickering to the door, smaller than reality in the distance. 

“I don’t really have a favourite. Green... maybe red. I like red, more than the rest, I guess.”

"Why?"

She smirked. _Always a catch_.

“Red roses, red lipstick. I’ve yet to see anyone look terrible in red lipstick. Rubies. The colour of passion, romance... warmth. It’s a nice colour.”

“Fire and blood, you can’t forget. Oh, and of course, this _charming_ line between us.”

Clarice saw it barreling down the highway before he said it. Her fist clenched, her teeth grinding, she knew there was a choice. That choice could make the difference between finding their suspect tomorrow and two weeks from now. 

And the man was accelerating. 

She hadn’t caught the exact words he used, yet Clarice knew Doctor Lecter was goading her into stepping onto the line. Something about how red was the colour of bravery, and to indulge him could unlock the access she granted.

“Tick, tock, Agent Starling. I’m afraid our time is almost up.”

She noted how he switched between her name and title. When he spoke her name, his tongue seemed to caress each syllable. As if he was savouring it, every time he was given the opportunity to let the dictation slip. Yet when he spoke her title, there was a sharpness to him. The cut of distaste and formality. It was like a reminder, not just to her, but for himself that he should never forget what she was. It was almost enough to make her giggle, if Clarice considered herself the type to _giggle_. 

Defiantly compliment, she inched the toe of her shoe onto the red line.

“Certainly, you can do better than that.”

Clarice knew what he wanted. With an audible swallow, she took the plunge, stepping one foot into the red zone, and brought the other along for the ride. Her chest quaked with a deep breath in. 

“Shaking from fear, Agent Starling? Or do I detect something else?” Doctor Lecter leaned in, his nostrils flaring. 

“It’s the fear, I _assure_ you.” There was no fear in her tone. Clarice noticed it; he had noticed too. 

Doctor Lecter made a silent ‘oh’ with his mouth. He leaned in closer, the metal wire attaching him to the track system pulled taught. 

“This man, age thirty five to forty, has spent his entire life trying to _appear_ ordinary. So ordinary, it’s suspect. My suggestion is to check each town he’s plagued with his presence and compare sign up sheets from local gatherings, sports clubs, the like. He has likely used an alias for many of them you’ll be able to compare. He would’ve attended at least once, to survey possible women that exhibit a particular _personality_ or mannerisms. He will have changed up his look, certainly, from one underwhelming appearance to the next but that is of little consequence. I believe that’s enough, and good timing, as our time is up." He stepped back, going right back to walking around his oval. Not twenty seconds later, did the guard from before enter the nest, and several men filed in through the door. 

Clarice quickly stepped away from the line, thankful when none of the armed guards took notice. As she walked around, she locked eyes with Doctor Lecter, giving him a nod. With that, she hustled out the door, unaware of the guard checking her backside out with a leering stare. 

The guard made a gesture to one of his coworkers, one that made Doctor Lecter sneer.


	4. Scenarios

“Jack’s satisfied with what we’re doing,” Clarice tapped her pencil against an open manila folder “, we’ve closed five cold cases and two actives in a week and a half.”

“Child’s play. Tell him to send something more difficult, would you? It’s an insult, to think any of these files would exorcise my brain.” Doctor Lecter pushed the completed file away and took another from the drawer.

“Mmm, maybe we can take on the Zodiac ciphers next. I know they aren’t the most riveting, but we’re doing good work. Think we can hammer out another one before I gotta hit the bricks?”

“Your quaint colloquialisms never cease to amaze,” Doctor Lecter thumbed through the papers Clarice had sent through “, I believe we can. What do you say, some quid pro quo for old times sake?”

“Only if I can start,” Clarice took a nod from the Doctor “, so, there’s a good profile here. Active case, got five possible suspects. No one can identify them in a line up. Middle aged man, left handed from the cuts they make across the throats of the victims. All five can be linked to three sites across Wisconsin. That’s sketchy enough, but based on the profile, I doubt there was more than one-“

“Your first mistake of the day, Agent Starling. More than one, less than five. Two of your suspects are guilty. Has old Jackie secured you the job you _covet_?”

“He tried, he’s still trying. What makes you think behavioural got the profile wrong?”

“Your victims were all apart of couples, not a single to be found in the lot, attacked with their partner being made to watch in bondage. Even a large man would have trouble subduing two people in the open. Why do you think Jack has failed you?”

“There are... _people_. People who don’t like me very much. Buffalo Bill brought me some ground, but it was too much. One guy higher up, Paul Krendler. First time he met me, it was pretty clear we weren’t simpatico. The living victims also had drugs in their systems, high doses of muscle relaxers and narcotics. They could’ve been stalked, spiked, and attacked.”

“Yes, but again, by two. Look for correlations between the five men. Trade jobs going back five years, they likely met at work. Particularly, look for one with a higher IQ and one lower. They’ve combined their strengths to overwhelm their weakness. This Krendler, why do you think he hates you so?”

“Couldn’t speak to that, really. Maybe he feels inadequate, that a woman swooped in and did a better job than him. Maybe he just hates women _period_. It got worse when I politely turned down an offer for drinks, told him to go home to his wife. Since then, he’s worked pretty damn hard to block me at every turn.”

“Charming.”

“Not the first time I’ve dealt with a guy like him, won’t be the last either. Just gotta keep pushin’ against resistance. From the notes here, seems like Bront is our low IQ guy. He’s the number one suspect but we couldn’t link him. Seeing as we’re dealing with a pair, the other guy will finish the puzzle. There isn’t anything in this file that would give ‘em away, I’ve read ‘em hundreds of times.”

“ _Trades_ , Clarice, it’s all in your file. Look even further than that, between the lines. Your notes say that grime was found on the bodies, our men work with their hands and don’t make much of a little mess. Samples of it won’t take you anywhere specific, but you don’t need it to. Three of our suspects work in construction, Bront being one. Our other man will have worked with him, likely for some time. Reach back five years or so, they had time to build a relationship before they advanced to extra curricular activities. Now, have you ever considered taking influence from me, Agent Starling?”

“What do you mean?” Clarice asked, peaking through the case notes. 

“Krendler sounds like someone who will inhibit you as a roadblock. Have you had thoughts, scenarios and exchanges of a more bitter kind? A little touch of fear can go a long way with men such as him.”

“I prefer to kill ‘em with kindness.”

“Do you feel that kindness has served you well?”

“Your way of doing things hasn’t exactly served _you_ well.”

“Perhaps we could collaborate. We make such an interesting team! Imagine the results if you would allow me to aid you. Between the _two_ of us, we could have Krendler bending over backwards for your advancement.”

“I can make it on my own merit.”

“Of that, I don’t doubt. It is the world around you I doubt. Some individuals need a firm hand for the point to be made. No matter, keep in mind that if kindness fails, there is always _my_ way.”

“That’s an awful lot of support from the man who wasn’t even interested in talkin’ to me the first time we met.” Clarice arched her brow. 

“ _That_ makes for a fun anecdote.”

“It _makes_ for _you_ being pretty damn rude. Now that I remember it, you wouldn’t have worked with me if Miggs hadn’t thrown-“

“Must we lament on the past?”

“When that past involves you being rude, _now_ you want to brush over it?”

“I was a touch judgemental, that I will give you. In turn, you made that delightful little fib about the island. Fair and even, Agent Starling?”

“Not quite,” Clarice bit the inside of her cheek and Doctor Lecter regarded her with a curious gaze “, I didn’t know the island was a lie. Jack told me it was direct from the offer. _You_ , on the other hand, knew exactly what you were doing when you insulted my shoes.”

“Advice you have thus heeded and improved.”

“ _Your_ way only works because you put yourself in a position where you can never be wrong. For good or worse, I can tell ya that won’t work by me. Questioning oneself is the key to growth.”

“I disagree, to question oneself is to doubt oneself. I don’t doubt, I’m _certain_. Perhaps you found me rude, our first meeting, and yet you are still here. Coming back time and time again. My method is effective, Agent Starling, I only implore you to try it for yourself.”

“Alright... I’ll keep it in the pocket,” Clarice chuckled “, although, I’ve gotta say; if we ever decided to use our combined power for evil, the world may never be the same.”

“Hmm, seems you have given thought to _that_ scenario, Clarice. The two of us maiming our way across the world?”

“Minds wander while doing tedious paperwork, and that’s my closing thought. **Here**! Bront and Sutton worked at Worche’s Construction about three years back. Sutton was on honour roll in school, deans list in university, had a family mishap that took him from being a prospective attorney to working construction. They’ve gotta be our guys.”

“I agree, Agent Starling. Better run off and let the big guns know, before the nurses begin to think you’ve overstayed your welcome. Oh, you forgot one thing. I made comments both about your shoes _and_ that pure West Virginian drawl.”

“Oh, I didn’t forget, just willingly suppressed.”

“I retract my comment about your accent. It’s rather grown on me.”


	5. Serendipity

Clarice was jolted awake by the ringing of her telephone. It was a shrill noise, one that made Clarice growl before bringing the headset to her ear. 

“Starling.” She grumbled, still half asleep. A flurry of words met her ears, frantic enunciations from a female nurse whose name slipped through the cracks. 

Something about a guard, something about an attack. Something else about a poem and a polaroid camera used to document patient injuries. 

The conversation was short, the plastic heavy against her fingers as Clarice placed the phone upon the receiver. She enjoyed the silence for a beat, hands rubbing at her face. 

“God _fucking_ **DAMN it** ,” Clarice jumped out of bed and began to throw herself together “, ya knew it was comin’. The shoe always drops.”

Before grabbing her keys, Clarice stopped. Wanting to ensure she hadn’t dreamed it all, she called Barney. He confirmed the story the aforementioned nurse had thrown at her. He assured her that it was nothing she had done. She double checked that her presence would be welcomed and Barney confirmed. She wasn’t like the rest, Clarice could survive the confrontation.

Upon arrival, Barney was waiting for her. Clarice was quick to ask to see the guard. Barney didn’t argue, once again understanding Clarice Starling could handle most anything. He led her down a foreign hall, shoes echoing clicks upon the black and white tile. 

The shift was not lost on Clarice. Some of the staff, ones she had not personally met, looked at her in an odd fashion. It felt strange, to have people fear you just by association. 

The morgue was cold, the body in question beneath a white sheet. Barney waited for her nod to pull it back, her eyes met with bruised, sliced flesh wrapped around a corpse. The lines were careful and precise, the work of a man with a skilled hand. 

Clarice looked at it for a long while. The first thought she had, when her brain began to chug again, was what the man possibly did to deserve it. Barney mentioned the man’s pension for unnecessary and repeated profanity, and the way he would smack his bubble gum while they stood in the frigid room. The guard who had worked there five years without incident, suddenly a target of Doctor Lecter? He never killed without his own justification. When he decided he wanted to take someone away from his pristine vision, he acted immediately. 

“Alright. Take me to him.” She had to know. She wouldn’t leave until she knew. 

It passed in a blur; Clarice found herself before his cell. Doctor Lecter laid upon his cot, hands behind his head. His walls were bare, his pillow and blanket gone, a call likely given by Chilton to the spineless interim head when the news was relayed. She tapped her foot against the stone, knowing he was laying awake, likely consuming the rage that radiated from her form. 

“We need to talk about it.” Clarice placed her hands on her hips. She felt the hairs of her ponytail tickle her neck. 

"Oh, you’ve heard about the gift?" Doctor Lecter sat up, crossing one leg atop the other.

"Are you expecting gratitude for the dead man with poetry on his back?"

"I'm not oppose, it’s only polite." 

Her jaw tightened. Clarice sat down in front of the glass, her legs crossed. A hand ran along her scalp, smoothing away wild fly always. She saw herself in the glass, all heavy eyes and messy appearance.

“I risked... _everything_ to set this up. I’ll be lucky if I get to keep coming here, after this. And you? Your cell is bare, they’ve clearly cranked the air conditioning down here, no blankets, no books?”

“Is that concern for me, Agent Starling?” He mused, standing just long enough to approach the glass. He mirrored her, sitting down and crossing his legs.

She simply shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. An unusual silence came over the dungeon quarters as they sat. When she looked to him, his maroon eyes pierced her own, searching for an answer to his question.

“You seem to be at war with yourself, trapped in your thoughts. It hurts me so, to see you this perplexed, when the answer is right in front of you.”

“Is this a game to you? Is this _funny_?”

“Of course it is, Clarice. Did you not read the poem? I thought it rather light hearted. I managed to snag a polaroid, even kept it safe from being found, _just_ for you.” Doctor Lecter leaned up and placed the picture inside the drawer, sending it through with a bang. 

Clarice should’ve left it. Her arms seemed to be not her own, grabbing the polaroid and looking at it. It had been taken when the wound was still fresh and weeping. Bite marks at the man’s neck, trails of ruby seeping from the meticulously carved letters. _How_ had he? Clarice had to remind herself that anything was possible if he was holding the map. 

She placed the photo in front of her feet with an exasperated sigh.

"Doctor, I've been working so hard to be courteous, but in return, you murder a guard and carve _my_ name on his back. You had to know how that makes me look, how it makes you look. Someone’s probably already sold the story to the Tattler, and I’ve already given them enough ammunition by taking on an entire assignment dedicated to working with you. Please tell me _why_ this happened.”

"How does it make me look, Clarice? Like a madman? Perhaps, a monster? Much like the rest of the people I’ve had _encounters_ with, I was more than justified and had reasons that overwhelmed the need for civility.”

“I want a straight answer. Tell me _why_ today, why that guard, and why involve me by name?”

“Are you prepared for the answer? I’m afraid you won’t understand., no matter how much you want to.”

Clarice inhaled deeply. He had pegged her once more; she desperately wanted to understand. He had been the marvel of psychology, people have sought the reason why since his first arrest. It was painful, to get what you wanted. 

"Try me, Doctor.” She was tired and cold. Clarice shook, running her hands over her goose bumped arms. 

“The particular guard in question? Quite hateful of women. I never appreciated his view on life, so close minded and bitter. When I heard him discussing you with his cohorts, after our stroll in the pen? That simply couldn’t stand. I saw an opportunity, Clarice, would you blame me for taking it?”

_’Yes’_ ; she kept that to her mind. She let his words permeate, locked away the professional part of herself for the moment, and tried to see it through his lens of right and wrong. She recalled another one of his victims, the tongue taken, from a man who had spent the better part of a fine evening at an opera berating the lead’s weight. To him, that was enough of an infraction. To Doctor Lecter, what the guard had done may as well have been a crime of war. 

“I _understand_ enough to know your disdain for those who offend you. I understand that it was an amusing tableau, to dedicate a poem about... beauty? On the back of a man you consider to be ugly. What I can’t understand is why you’d implicate me so heavily, having the knowledge of the hoops I have to jump through and-“

“You are correct on that front. I can admit, I was caught up in the moment and acted on whimsy. For that, I’m truly sorry.”

"You’re _sorry_?” Clarice felt as if he was slapping her intelligence across the face. Doctor Lecter was a man of theatrics, the sincere look upon his face did nothing to convince her. 

"Will you accept my apology, Clarice? Please, take any liberty you must regarding my capacity with Jackie boy, if it can ensure our partnership continues."

“You know, it’s fine. It’s already been done, nothing I can do. Jack is almost certain to pull me out of here, now.”

“It’s hardly your fault, Clarice. Simply a madman doing what he does.”

“I never said you were anything of the sort.”

“You may want to say it to _Jack_. My permission is boundless, say what you must.”

“I’m goin’ home,” Clarice stood and dusted herself off and tucked the polaroid into her pocket “, try to rest up.”

Clarice patted Barney on the shoulder before leaving the hospital, thanking him for his endless work. 

In her car, silence around her, she looked to the polaroid that had been slipped into her pocket. She read the poem over thrice before throwing it into the passenger seat. 

_Clarice  
Perhaps it was a mistake  
And then I met you  
Serendipity_


	6. Phone Call

Clarice practically screamed into her pillow, the shrill sound of the landline by her bed screaming along with her. With an angry expression, she read the time; _midnight on the clock_. 

“Someone better be _dead_.” Clarice practically snarled into the receiver, still laying down, refusing to sit up. 

“Not yet, but give me a name, and I can arrange it.”

Her refusal to exert any more energy than necessary bled from her body, Clarice shooting up in bed. _That voice_. 

“Doctor... Doctor _Lecter_?”

“The very same. Terribly sorry to wake you, I found it quite pressing.”

“ _How_? Why?”

“It’s rather easy to get anyone’s phone number, Agent Starling, and I know you lack the equipment for a trace. When I informed Barney of my urgent need to call my lawyer, I couldn’t help myself.”

“ _Why_ , though?”

“Tell me, how are you this fine night?"

“Seriously, are you _hurt_ or something? Trying to signal me? If Chilton is back, you need an advocate?”

"Are you offering, Clarice?"

"Goodnight, Doctor Lecter."

"Now, now, you haven’t heard why I’m calling."

Clarice smirked softly. Whenever Clarice thought the Good Doctor had the upper hand, there were flaws that seeped through. Whether Doctor Lecter liked it or not, he was obedient to her. He listened to her, needed her around. And even though Clarice didn't understand why, Doctor Lecter coveted to please her.

"Yes?"

"How are you sleeping?"

"Well… just fine until I got a random call at three a.m. from a convict. But I assume you meant the screaming. It was quiet tonight, been quiet for awhile.” Clarice tried to recall the last time she heard the wails of lambs in the night. It had been just before she had come out to Baltimore. Certainly, the exhaustion of working with him ran her brain until it could no longer muster nightmares. 

“Thank you, Clarice. Frank as always.”

“So... that’s it? That’s all you wanted to know?”

“Not quite. There _is_ something you could do to help, if you’re still offering.”

“Sure.”

“Barney was able to acquire me some new reading material from the library. It’s rather simple, I won’t take much from it alone. Would you be so kind as to listen while I dictate?”

“You want to read? To me?”

“To you, _with_ you if you’d like to grab a novel of your own.”

“If I turn on a light, I ain’t never getting back to sleep.”

“Then _to_ you will suffice. What say you, Clarice?”

“Uh-yeah, sure. Why not?”

“I was hoping for a touch more enthusiasm.”

“Oh, alright,” Clarice cleared her throat “, gosh _golly_ I can’t wait for you to get started.” 

“Sarcasm, Clarice?”

“Just start reading or I’m hangin’ up.” Clarice rolled her eyes, her lips betraying her with a faint smirk. 

He began to read Shakespeare, an excerpt she remembered from high school english, as she leaned to the phone and placed him on speaker. Pulling the device closer to the edge of the table, she snuggled in and politely listened as his tone added a flair to the overworked words before him. 

She imagined him upon his chair, book in his hands while one elbow rested upon the stainless steel table. Clarice could see how one leg crossed over the other, how his foot would bounce in time with his words. It was calming, as strange as it may be, to imagine this moment of calm in the chaos of their working relationship; a moment outside of the chain of events, a moment that didn’t fit the checklist of their defined normality. Or, perhaps, it fit in all too well. It was a calm that let her eyes flutter close, despite echos bellowing from the recesses of her mind. 

She promised herself she’d tell Barney about it, on her next trip to the hospital. She never would get around to doing it. Still, the silent promise satiated any qualms from her inner monologue, her arms squeezing around her pillow, the even tone of the doctor’s voice soothing the energy of the room. 

“I’m afraid Barney will be coming to collect soon, Clarice.”

“Hmm,” she huffed, bordering between sleep and wake “, oh. Yeah, s’gettin’ pretty late. Hey, how’d you convince him to let you call a lawyer this late?”

“There are advantages, to having lawyers across the world. You rest up now, little Starling. _We_ have an early start on Tuesday. Sweet dreams.”

With that followed a dial tone. Clarice placed the hand set upon the receiver and rolled over. She fell asleep within minutes.


	7. Bite

“Information is _not_ worth my dignity.” Clarice stopped in her tracks, the ball of her foot tapped against the concrete floor of the pen. 

“Come now, Agent Starling. I can _smell_ your frustration. It’s such a small request. You’ve bared your memories of childhood, relived terrible pain, and yet you cannot shake my hand?” The Doctor asked, his eyebrows raised. 

The good guards were on duty today. They handcuffed him in the front, offering his arms some well needed movement as he went about his stroll. It made for wonderful leverage.

He stood there, taking in the tightening of her neck muscles as he pressed. Oh, how easy it was to tease her. He savoured how she bowed her head, obviously biting her lip, weighing her choices before lifting her delicate chin. 

“I want to know your thoughts, sure... _not_ enough to risk a limb.”

“Scared, Agent Starling? Of _me_? I’m wounded, when have I ever given you the impression I would do something so heinous?”

Clarice cocked her head, giving him a slow blink. 

“The guard, nor Miggs, were you Agent Starling. I would never be so crass as to damage government property.”

“Ha. Ha. How about asking me to do something that doesn’t put my position here in jeopardy?”

“I’m afraid I have little at my disposal here. If you care to wait a few more hours, we could have this discussion in the dungeon, perhaps you’ll have better luck.”

“I get ‘bout an hour every other day and you know that... alright. Alright, fine.”

“Reconsidering, Agent Starling?” 

She nodded. 

“I would prefer you to verbalize.”

“I’ve reconsidered.”

“Wonderful,” his smile made Clarice force her eyes not to roll “, just meet me in the middle.”

“Why does Barney let us get away with these things?” Clarice grumbled, huffing loudly. With another quick glance to the door, she held her hand out, taking the open invitation from his right hand. 

His left hand clasped gently overtop her own. Clarice went to protest, her mouth falling open, yet silence poured out as his thumb traced the lines of her palm. 

“Your suspect is female, did you not take notice of the pink stains upon the corpses face? Perhaps not, decay masks many things.” His eyes were closed. Clarice let her gaze swap between their connection and his face, wearing pure serenity. 

“I didn’t... how the hell did I miss that?”

“Even the brightest make mistakes. Shes between twenty four and twenty seven, green, her incisions tell me. Shaking, untrained. Your victims share commonalities, all have a proclivity for the younger girls, hm?”

His hands were warm. Clarice took a deep breath as his fingers worked away tension in her digits. 

“Yes, a majority of the victims are on public registries.”

“If not the first, then the second victim will share a past with your suspect- your hands are rather cold, Agent Starling. Consider a vitamin, rich in iron.”

“Is that a prescription, Doctor?,” Clarice let out a shaking breath “, The first victim had a different cause of death-“

“Her first victim? An act of passion, vengeance I conclude, given the bite marks on the genitalia. She began to plan after this, her work became tidier on the second victim. Have you researched the background of lucky number one?”

“Was a teacher, elementary school. Retired for a few years-“

“Look for lawsuits, date back fifteen to twenty years. He was a career criminal, Clarice, this man will have several complaints against him. My professional opinion is to relax, there is no rush in finding someone doing a more effective job in keeping children safe. Yes, you believe in the black and white of justice, yet consider it a favour to me. This woman, your suspect, is not dangerous to the innocent populous. You will easily be able to identify her by checking her search history, frequently visited websites like the sex offenders registry, once you compile a list of possible suspects.”

“I don’t exactly think it’s a shame, what she’s doin’. Still a crime though.”

“Of course, Agent Starling, your sterling sense of right and wrong is in tact as ever. Tell me, were you aware, of the instinctual need for physical touch? Western society has become rather touch-starved, often putting physical attention and sexual gratification in the same category. It’s quite the shame, the catharsis a simple touch can bring so easily forgotten.”

“I wasn’t aware, thanks for the enlightenment.”

“It hardly seems fair. You’re doing quite the service, it takes a heart attack to get any of the nurses to hold my hand. What could I ever do to repay you, Clarice? What do you desire?”

“My hand back, would be a fine start.” Her lips betrayed her, a small smirk as she looked between their clasped hands and his face. It seemed to goad him, his grip gentle around her hand.

“Feel free to step away at any time. You’ll find I’m not holding you hostage.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Words failed to form, Clarice felt her mouth fall lax, her brain screaming to get it together. 

What came next whirled in a blur. 

Metal on metal. The door began to pull open. It was too late to step back, Clarice locking eyes with the guard. The riot geared man filled his lungs with air, ready to yell _something_ , anything that wouldn’t get her sent straight to the local diner for seven dollars an hour with tips. 

Her arm jerked up, her gaze turned towards the Doctor. His pristine teeth, white and deadly, sunk into her flesh. He clasped on in between her thumb and pointer, the pain shooting straight up her nerves to the elbow. She let out an incoherent noise, tears welling on her eyes at the agony, helpless to the Doctor’s mercy as blood began to drip down her arm, all over the floor and onto her jacket sleeve. Clarice desperately wanted to yank her arm away, but knew better, his ironclad grip would ensure he ripped her flesh right off. 

His jaws released her. The pain, perhaps the shock, set in. Clarice fell to her knees, assessing the damage. She was the owner of a near perfect dental impression, the wounds oozing life, her other hand attempting to stop the spread of the mess. She looked up, anger evident on her face.   
The desire to scream profanity died in her throat when she saw Doctor Lecter’s expression, forlorn... _apologetic_? 

Oh, how he hated how she screamed. Even the feast of emotions she served was not enough to block out her cry of pain. Within his mouth, his tongue ran along the inners of his teeth, tasting her, hoping to soothe the heart rate that spiked to an alarming ninth, showing no sign of slowing until she no longer remained on his sight.

Gloved hands grabbed her shoulders and she was hauled from the room. Guards got her to the nurse’s station, the resident medical doctor of the facility quick to patch Clarice up. 

The doctor found it rather curious as he inspected the wounds. He made mention that it seemed nothing vital had been struck, how he had seen worse damage on biting victims of the Good Doctor. White gauze wrapped around her slender hand, sure to turn pink into the evening, and having a moment to breath; she left the hospital. 

It took nearly two hours on the phone with Crawford, but Clarice convinced him she should stay. 

“He was just tryin’ to scare me, that’s all. Didn’t work, he’ll think it’s funny anecdote. You know him, he’ll find it amusing that I bothered to come back.” She believed her own words, it almost startled her. 

“I don’t know about this, Starling. Plenty of run ins this summer-“

“I only have a few weeks left. Please, sir, let me finish this assignment. If you could get me more time at the hospital, send more cases, we can catch more criminals. It’s worth it.”

“Just... jesus. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, really. I wouldn’t be asking to stay if I wasn’t, it’s just a scrape really.” It was not. Her hand throbbed with a dull ache, her bandages already changed once and a dose of antibiotics in her stomach. 

“Okay. Okay, I believe you. But no fuss on this, you’ll be getting six sessions with a Bureau psych when you get back.”


	8. Hypotheticals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more boys, then it’s onto the next one

Clarice flicked through notes; a streamlined inventory of the cases they solved here, a short list of remaining cases there. A finger ran down the pages, her shoulder pressed against the glass to give her behind a break from the stone floor. Doctor Lecter mirrored her position, occasionally peaking over from his sketch to read the line her finger tapped at. The only sounds to be found in the dungeon was the occasional drip of water and turning of paper onto paper. Clarice looked up to Doctor Lecter, his eyes cast down in concentration , a peculiar expression on his face. 

“Why’re you smiling like that?” She asked, a small smirk of her own growing. Clarice only knew him to smile when he was planning something. It wasn’t his fake smile, the one she had seen him wear for the guards and nurses. It was in the way the corner of his mouth actually upturned, it was a genuine... plotting expression. 

“I didn’t realize I needed a reason, Agent Starling.” The words were cut with his teasing tone, his smile never falling. 

“I’d be hard pressed to find a reason to be jovial down here, Doctor.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re referencing.”

“Pfft, _okay_. Says the man who calculates everything down to the shoelace.”

“Mmm, no laces down here, Clarice. Haven’t you heard I’m dangerous?”

“Easy to forget,” Clarice snorted, waving her bandaged hand for emphasis “, though I appreciate you saving my job. Would’ve never lived it down, getting hauled out of here for misconduct.”

“And you’re healing well? I don’t imagine those doctors had any sophistication to their treatment. The stitches they use here don’t do much for scarring, I’m afraid.”

“A little war wound never hurt anyone. Adds character.”

“Character... yes. That must by why you never removed that gunpowder. It’s rather eye catching, I meant to compliment it before.”

Clarice brushed a finger along her impromptu beauty mark, looking down to her notes when she felt the disruption in her skin.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re smiling like a kid in a candy shop.”

“Has it occurred to you that I enjoy your company? Seeing as our little project is coming to a close, I thought I should enjoy the time we have. Is that a crime, Agent Starling? How many years should they add to my sentence?”

“Only five years, tops. I’ll take the compliment. I’ve enjoyed it too,” Clarice cleared her throat “, having a competent partner, that is. I’ll be at a loss back home.”

“It won’t be long before they send you back my way. Now that they have a key in, they’ll use you at any given moment.”

“The less expendable I am, the better.”

“What an unfortunate way to look at your career. Be careful now, or you’ll find yourself performance punished, thrown away when they finally manage to get me in the chair.”

“That’s all talk, no one’s gonna be able to circumvent your insanity plea. I mean, they’re _trying_ but it won’t work.”

“You seem confident.”

“Worse comes to worse, we can always dangle promises of your brilliant mind in front of them. That usually shuts them up for awhile.”

“I’m flattered you enjoy my company so much, you’d be willing to lie about my want to _aid_ the Bureau.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing, Doctor?”

“No, of course not. It’s merely incidental, Clarice. I am helping _you_.”

“Tomato, tom- _ah_ -to.”

“I disagree. They are exceptionally different.”

Clarice stopped her fiddling with papers to look at him. He had stopped sketching and had began to regard her with a predatory gaze. The gaze he wore when he wanted to play. 

“Well, if you weren’t stuck here, helping me... what would you be doing?”

“It’s rather tedious to fantasize about what could have been.” It wasn’t so much of a lie, as it was a small blemish. He fantasizes about many things, but not about having never been caught. His memory palace had been evolving, scenarios of freedom suddenly including a small brunette with everything to learn. 

“Alright then, how ‘bout if you were released today. What would you do?”

“Looking to psychoanalyze me? It’s quite the task, but if you wish to take it on, I believe in you.”

How she hated how his praise made her feel.

“I was asking in a more... slice of life way, we’ve earned a little downtime. But sure, if you’ll let me try, I’ll analyze the hell outta you.”

“That’s the spirit, Clarice,” Doctor Lecter set his paper and charcoal aside “, now, your question. If I were granted the ability to walk out of here today... I would take a stroll through a park. I would watch the birds, smell the flowers. It’s strange, the things you long for in captivity.”

“Mhmm.” Clarice made it clear she was listening, her forehead nearly touching the glass as she took in his words. 

“I would find a restaurant, up to my standards of course and dine, sampling as much as I wish. If I left here today, would you come with me? Would you show me the technology I missed, would you do me the privilege of allowing me to treat you to dinner?”

“If we’re playing _that_ game, I’d much rather have you cook.”

“ _Adventurous_. Are you aware of my proclivity for protein? Any sane person would avoid my meals at all costs.”

“I’ve spent plenty of time reading up on your dinner parties,” Clarice couldn’t prevent the blush as he raised his eyebrows “, and everyone had nothing but compliments until they learned... well, I wonder what you could do with tofu.”

“Tofu is a _crime_ against humanity, Clarice, never forget that. I’d much rather serve you-“

“Lamb.” They spoke on unison. Doctor Lecter cocked his head at her deadpan expression. 

“I know you pride yourself on unpredictability, but I saw that coming from a mile away.”

“Perhaps I could save the lamb, for when those pesky screams fade away. To walk out of here to cook for you... yes, I would do so, as long as you’d have me. How about you, Clarice? What if dinner went well? Would you come with me to Florence, throw away all you’ve known to travel the world, attend the opera, relish in domesticity by my side?”

“I can hear the whispers now. _Look at that sugar baby_.”

“Would that be so awful?”

“I’ve certainly been called more derogatory things.”

“That’s not an answer to my previous question.”

“In this completely theoretical, hypothetical scenario? Yeah, I’ll bite. Say I did go with you. What’s a day in the life of an ex-fugitive and disgraced agent?” Rarely had she heard the Doctor speak of his own hopes, his dreams. Her curiosity was profession, it was totally normal exploration, to know her subject better. That’s what she would tell herself so she could sleep at night. 

“You may find it boring. You would want for nothing, that goes without question. I would buy to property with trails, somewhere you could run and train. If you’d rather swim, it’s far better cardio, then I would buy you a home with a pool. A library all your own, where you could read in silence, as well as a catalogue of records for your listening pleasure. I’d be more than happy to cook for you every night, even teach you if interested.”

“That doesn’t really sound _boring_.”

“But you would be bored. You see, Clarice, I have an inkling that if this scenario we’re to take place... you wouldn’t want me to play the part of upstanding, reformed citizen.”

“What do you mean?”

“In this world where we run off into the sunset together? You’ve seen how we’ve partnered on this side of the law... imagine what we could accomplish on the other side.”

“You’ve mentioned... tread lightly.”

“You’re the one who invited this very entertainment, Clarice, but your warning is noted. I think you’d have much more fun playing for my team... you’d be quite good at it. I digress, I could easily obtain reservations at any establishment you wish. Yet, I would cook for you every night, whatever you ask of me. Perhaps, we have a terrace overlooking the property, where I could teach you how to dance. Do you waltz?”

“I’m as country as it gets, white trash someone once said-“

“One _generation_ separated from white trash, Clarice.”

“Oh, mhmm, totally different. No, I don’t waltz, but I’m sure you’d teach me just fine.”

“It’s rather telling, that you would be comfortable with such. Do you think you’d shiver with nerves within my arms, Clarice? Would your breath hitch knowing nothing kept you safe from the distance of my teeth? Does the danger _excite_ you?”

“Uhm-“

“Would you shy away, if I brought up a hand to brush away the hair from your face? Tell me, Clarice, how would you feel if my hand upon your back pulled you closer as I teach you how to move?”

“I-“

“If I had served as a good host, would you bless me with a kiss? That is what good southern girls do, is it not? To feel your lips upon my cheek, I could die a happy man. Or, if I was a _very_ good boy, would you allow me to taste your lips?”

“This is hardly app-“

“I would be gentle, I promise you. A hand on your back for support, the other holding your cheek. I imagine your skin to be soft, well cared for. Of course, I would provide you the very best amenities. I wouldn’t initiate contact, I’d take pleasure in watching your eyes close as you fell into me. I have to wonder, would you attempt to consume me in passion and fire? Or would you rather be coy, with a simple peck, to leave me craving more?”

“Uhm, I... I think our time is up, Doctor.”

“Time does fly, when one is having fun.” Doctor Lecter stood up, taking his drawing along with him. He left Clarice on the floor, red cheeks and wide eyes, scrambling to gather herself. 

She had to swallow how her heart raced as she left the dungeon, offering Barney a curt, forced smile. Her hands shook on the wheel of her car, white knuckled, where she remained parked for nearly an hour before driving to her apartment. 

The lambs didn’t scream that night. Instead, she had dreams of a black suit and a red dress. Mahogany tables and red carpet laced upon a grand staircase. She dreamt of a terrace made of marble, overlooking a lush forrest at sunset. She dreamt of a man, strong and broad, with a touch like silk and experienced lips. 

Only once in the night would she wake, a moan escaping her lips, a fleeting pleasure between her legs.


	9. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied one more after this lol

Boxes lined the halls, labeled with black sharpie in fine script. They were starting to drive Clarice mad, kicking cardboard out of her way after stubbing her toe countless times. She wished Ardelia was here; the woman was wild, mildly disorganized, but had a weird patience for packing and organization born from a mild Tetris obsession. Instead, Clarice was alone, attempting to shove her belongings into the same boxes she had arrived with, with minimal success.

Days worth of work and her little home away from home was nearly bare. New shoes neatly tucked into their box, all but a few books remained on her coffee table. A small life packed up, and she found herself mourning in between in each round, forlorn as the routine she had grown accustomed to was coming to a close.

Her kitchen and bathroom bare, her bedroom devoid of life, Clarice felt it safe to crack open the copy of The Devine Comedy the Doctor had given her, without guilt of procrastination. She wanted to wait until she had time to truly consume it, to respect this novel the Doctor had read countless times. Clarice felt it was what it deserved, to be cherished.

She hadn’t noticed the day frittering away, her nose firmly within the pages as the sun moved from on high to the west. Her light had gone from bright, to a stark orange, her fingers finding the pull switch of a lamp when her eyes began to struggle. Certainly, Clarice would have kept reading, if her phone hadn’t began its shrill cry. She ignored the first call, but found it difficult to push away when a second immediately followed. With an angry hand shoving a bookmark into the spine, she snatched the phone to her ear. 

“Starling.”

**“Lecter _escaped_.”** She could pinpoint the voice of her dearest friend, panting and distressed on the other line. Clarice rolled her eyes and picked up her book, one hand shaking the marker from its place. 

“Mmm, a little flat. Your tight five needs work, ‘Delia.” Clarice snorted, turning the page with one finger, the rest holding the novel open. 

**“Why would I joke about this? Turn on the news, now!”**

Clarice, still in disbelief, flipped the book onto her coffee table. With a dramatic sigh, she snatched the remote. From the channel hosting shitty soap operas to the news, her lighthearted expression dropped in just as much time. 

There Wolf Blitzer stood, talking about the carnage that took place in Baltimore hospital. Five dead, several injured. A warning of graphic images was thrown up, followed by grainy security footage. Before her eyes, she watched Doctor Lecter slice at the neck of a guard, careful to lower the body to the ground in a soundless act of prowess, while snatching the keycard from a thick utility belt.

A list of the injured popped up; Fredrick Chilton at the very top. The collection of pixels was her reminder that he had returned just the previous day. Clarice grimaced, knowing whatever condition he had been left in, he was likely begging for death.

“Oh, _shit_.” Clarice grumbled, forgetting that she was on the phone. She jumped when Ardelia’s tone, urgent and panicked, met her eardrums. 

**“It’s absolutely... savage. He gutted an intern, bit the jugular out of another. You need to be careful, Crawford is already on sending a squad your way-“**

“He won’t come here.”

**“How can you know? He’s crazy, he’s-“**

“Crazy? That isn’t _really_ the- never mind. When he escaped Memphis, they found him several states over, no where near Virginia. He didn’t come for me then, won’t come now.”

**“I don’t believe you now anymore than I did then. Just stay put, lock your doors... god, Clarice, just stay safe.”**

“You know I will, got my piece cocked and locked.”

**“Good... _good_. Call me, if you need me. I can be on a bureau plane and there in five minutes, ‘kay? Love ya.”**

“I will, love ya.” As soon as the phone was back on the hook, it rang once more. 

Jack was on the other end this time, confirming that he was sending several cars to watch her place. Clarice agreed, listened to him rattle off a refresher of gun use 101. He was quick to sign off, all business, but not before promising her that his best men were on it. No less than ten minutes passed since he hung up when a show of blue and red lights cast shadows upon her wall. 

Clarice begrudgingly met a uniformed officer at her door. He gave her a run down of where they would be and she mildly relished when he folded on his insistence of door checks every hour. 

“Call me, just call me. If I don’t answer, haul ass up.” Clarice offered a smile, the one she gave men she had no interest in interacting with. 

“If you’re sure, ma’am.”

“I’m sure.”

She didn’t like the waste of manpower. Those boys, rotting on their asses in their cruisers lining her block could be out canvassing airports, hospitals. Literally anywhere he would be, not somewhere he wouldn’t risk being caught at. Even the notion that Doctor Lecter didn’t have better things to do than come visit her. felt more like a judgement of her character. Perhaps, it was simply the learned response of seeing tabloids plaster their faces together on the covers, presented in front of the magazines constraining real news. 

Either way, Clarice wasn’t nearly as disturbed as the company that surrounded her. While the world burned, weighing the destruction one man could cause, she resumed her reading. It served as background noise and nothing more. She kept reading until the first welfare call came through, effectively pulling her from the serenity of her mind. Clarice tried and failed to continue after setting the phone back down. As all good things do, it had come to an end, her back beginning to scream from her hunched position against the couch arm. She took a moment on her feet to stretch her aching body, before gauging the time she had until the next inconvenience of a phone call. 

Clarice decided there was more time to shower than not. With care, she placed her bookmark between the pages and left it upon the coffee table with a tender hand.

The only items to remain unpacked were sprawled along her vanity. Two towels, body wash, and shampoo. She turned on the shower, letting her hand bask in the water as it turned from chilled to lukewarm. Abandoning her clothes to the hamper, she stepped beneath the hot stream, closing her eyes as she soaked her hair. 

Serene silence, lathering bubbles. The shower was her favourite part of her day, where she was entirely on her own, by herself. Clarice hummed a tune, something she couldn’t name but recalled from her childhood. 

_Thump._

Clarice rinsed her hair quickly after that, wiping water away from her eyes so she could peak out into the hall. 

There was no way, he wouldn’t make a sound. It was an old building, probably just settling to the temperature change as the sun began to set. Clarice had spent most of her life, sleeping in old buildings, listening to pops and creaks. Breathing homes, she had once heard the expression. 

_A foot step, creaking the floorboards._

Unless he wanted her to know.

Clarice held her breath, hand gripping the shower curtain. She found her voice, and in a tone smaller than she was proud of, spoke the first word she could think of. 

“... Doctor?”

Silence. 

Clarice let out her breath, lungs yearning for fresh oxygen. 

“If I had know I was catching you at such a vulnerable time, I would have waited.”

She gasped, softly, a hand over her mouth. Clarice rubbed her face. Her brain stalled, the reality quick to humble. The voice of her pool drill instructor bellowed from an ancient memory, a reminder that panic was the greatest killer, and she was drowning thirty feet below. She had to navigate with poise, keep level as she pushed her way to sky, and earn her oxygen. 

“What-uh-what are you doing? In my apartment, _what_ are you doing?”

“I’m evading those bumbling fools you call officers. Fear not, I left them as they were, eating fast food and playing cards in their cruisers. It was child’s play to figure their routine, they aren’t exactly operating on a Bureau level now, are they?”

“I... why? Why are you here?” Clarice had given up her hold on the curtain, settling for leaning against the wall of the shower. She cranked the faucet, leaving her with the sound of her dripping shower head.

“It would be quite rude of me, to leave without saying goodbye, don’t you agree?”

“And that’s all? You plan on leaving? ‘Cause I’d like to get out of this shower and back to my book.”

“Of course, I’ll leave you to it. Ah, but I do need to wait around a bit longer. I only have a two minute and forty second window once an hour to make a move.”

Clarice sucked in her cheeks, looking to the ceiling. She peaked from the gap between the wall and curtain, seeing her towels still upon her vanity, farther than she’d like to go with the Doctor roaming about. 

“‘Kay... could you, uh, pass my towels through then? Please?” She stuck a hand out, making a grabbing motion with her fingers. She was convinced he had walked away until she felt soft material warming her chilled hand. 

“Would it be overstepping, Clarice, to mention I noticed you haven’t had dinner? I could cook for you.” He was closer now, just beyond the curtain. She considered, for just a moment, opening the curtain and using the element of surprise to take him down. 

She remembered his sheer physical strength and decided otherwise. 

“My fridge isn’t exactly overflowing, I’m set to leave in a few days.” Clarice wrapped a towel around her body, then whipped her hair to wrap it in the other. 

“I’ve taken the liberty of peaking, hopefully you don’t mind. I can make a stir fry, not quite as elaborate as I wish to provide, but it would certainly do.”

“I can’t imagine you’d take no for an answer. Knock yourself out.” Clarice, still shell shocked from the encounter, felt a strange serenity. 

In the presence of the world’s most dangerous man, she felt _calm_. 

When she pulled back the shower curtain, he was gone. Wet footprints followed behind her as she stuck her head out of the doorway. Down the hall, she saw a shadow move about her kitchen. Quickly she made her move, tipping her toes into her bedroom. Blindly, her hand reached out to the dresser, expecting a heavily weighed piece. 

Her gun felt light within her grasp. The clip was clearly gone, and when Clarice pulled back, no ammo jumped from the chamber. Clarice ground her teeth, slowly shutting the door as options ran through her mind at mach speed. To her bedside drawer, she quietly pulled the unit free, her stomach plummeting when her spare clip was gone too. 

They hadn’t sent her with cuffs, why would she need them? Her only service weapon was likely on his person. All her heavy objects, candle holders and such, all packed away in boxes stacked in the kitchen. 

Clarice threw on some clothes, aggravated that the articles she left out weren’t as modest as she needed. Yoga pants and a thin sweater didn’t offer her any strength, nor any more control over her surroundings. She sat on her bed, bouncing, the springs creaking beneath her. Elbows on her knees, she rested her face within her hands, fingertips massaging her temples. 

“Fuck... oh _shit_. What are you gonna do?” Clarice whispered, begging for something to come to her. No amount of training could’ve prepared her for this...

‘You could do nothing.’

Clarice furrowed her brow. She attempted to push the small voice down, but it fought back, spraining her wrists and smacking her face with reckless violence. It told her it was the safest option, Doctor Lecter wouldn’t seek violence unless she introduced it. All she had to do was wait him out, play the game they had been playing since they met. She had a better chance of walking out of this unscathed physically. Mentally? She wasn’t so sure.

Clarice ruffled her damp hair, fingers nervously playing with the curve of her bangs. Her eyes fell closed, attempting to reunite the high spun agent and the relaxed woman within. When Clarice opened her eyes, she shoved down any residual worries with little thought. Her mind clear, her body loose and ready, she crept from her room and into the lion’s den. When she leaned against the wall of the kitchen, she couldn’t help but watch him move around with such effortlessness. If he had been free, she would’ve thought he had been here before. Clarice was borderline impressed with how his instincts carried him. 

“I assume you found something to be amiss,” Doctor Lecter turned and they locked eyes for the first time of the evening “, this could go one of two ways. You can wait eighteen minutes for your welfare call and tell them I’m here. I’ll be gone before they can be in your hallway.”

“And the second option?” Clarice crossed her arms. 

“You say nothing and enjoy our meal. I won’t remain in your hair any longer than you’ll have me.”

Clarice swallowed, taking tentative steps into the space. She stalked along the counter, resuming her lean across from him, her arms still tight along her chest. 

“If I had bet... that you would risk your escape to come here, I would’ve lost.”

“Are you happily surprised? Or disappointed?”

“I didn’t take you to be so... short sighted, is all.”

“Oh?” Doctor Lecter turned back to the cutting board, his practiced hands chopping away at a yellow pepper. Clarice _felt_ him, somehow watching her.

“You could’ve been at an airport by now, in your _third_ car with the plates changed by now. There is no conceivable reason for you to be here.”

“Nor was there reason for you to take up an assignment working alongside me. We do surprise each other, don’t we, Agent Starling?”

“So, it’s Agent again? What is that? A way to separate me from how you wish to see Clarice versus how you have to see the Agent? Or are you scared about the power I hold here?”

“Have I made a mistake? Assuming this was a neutral space?”

“You _broke_ into my apartment!” She slapped the knife of one hand against the palm of another, punctuating each word. 

“And I made no effort to make you feel uncomfortable, beside a small intrusion. You seemed rather relaxed when you asked me to hand you your towels. Your wrist was quite limp, no tension in your fingers.”

Clarice looked to the clock. Fifteen minutes to go. 

“To answer your question, I refer to you as Agent Starling when _I_ feel it pertinent, to remind _you_ of your strength. A show of respect, I should say. It has nothing to do with power, or fear. As I said, I assumed we would have a neutral dinner, as we discussed.”

“That was just chat, talk to fill the space! God forbid I enjoy a little banter,” Clarice pinched the bridge of her nose, a sharp inhale filling the space “, fantasy is not reality.”

“So you have fantasies? About us?”

“Oh, please. You _wish_.”

“Do I wish? I believe I... _manifest_. Well, you have fourteen minutes and you’ll be out of your misery. However, I would appreciate if you would change your mind, if as nothing but a favour to me.”

“Are you willing to walk to the Bureau in cuffs? If as nothing but a favour to me.”

Doctor Lecter laughed at her then. It startled her at first, to see him so free in every sense of the term, but a tentative smile crept upon her face. She shook her head lightly, a reminder to stay sharp.

“I suppose we all have our limits. No, I’m afraid that’s off the table. I was thinking along the lines of a recipe book. You’d be the envy of all collectors.”

“I’m not a big cook.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Doctor Lecter set down the knife he chopped with “, although I’m hard pressed to believe such, given you have this lovely wok. It’s quite high quality, I found it impressive.”

“Ardelia, my friend. She bought it for me hoping I’d cook for her more. It’s seen... I don’t know, maybe two meals?”

“I’m sure they were of standard,” the Doctor watched the oil come to a heat “, if not to yours, at least to your friend.”

“She’s easy to please, with enough spice.”

Clock; twelve minutes.

“Where are we on that decision, Agent Starling? Plan to sell me up the river for a little smidge of respect from your cohorts?”

“I can’t sit here and do nothing- eat and act like I’m not sitting across from an escaped convict.”

“Can’t? Or won’t? The difference is rather large.”

“ _Can’t_. You’ve got your own set of guidelines, I got mine. I would... if this hasn’t already sealed the deal, I would never be clean again.”

“Clean and dirty agents all look alike.”

“Well, I’d know. I’d know every time I hear about some corpse turning up without _sweetbreads_ to spare.”

“That’s because you’re thinking linearly. Would it help you, Clarice, to see this moment as suspended beyond time? Outside of the roles we’ve been thrusted into?”

“I can’t remove myself from reality.”

“Of course you can, simply believe in yourself, as I do. What do they say? About giving it the old college try?”

“What would be the point, even?”

“You’ve worked so hard this summer, even agents deserve an evening of rest and relaxation.”

“This isn’t relaxing! This is putting me on the edge,” Clarice leaned into the counter, slapping her palms just behind her upon the countertop “, I am _very_ not relaxed.”

“Take a breath, Clarice,” Doctor Lecter tossed the vegetables as they crisped, throwing spices along with them “, I could provide some guided meditation.”

“I’m not your patient! Don’t... _therapy_ me.”

“I would never be so foolish to attempt so, at least not without your consent. I am merely suggesting a moment to calm your nerves. It’s quite tickling, to know I can rile you up with a simple phrase.”

“Don’t act like that’s new information. You’ve been knowing how to press my buttons since we met.”

“Mmm, now you’re sounding positively flirtatious. Did they teach you that, in one of your classes?”

Clarice rubbed her face, moving past him with ease. Her hand flew into her fridge, withdrawing with a bottle of white wine. She couldn’t bare to look at him as she pulled a glass from the cupboard. The cork was thrown across the room with reckless abandon and Clarice filled the glass nearly to the brim. 

She turned, glass in hand, sipping away at the cheap yet potent liquid. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want some?” She asked with fake concern.

“Better I stay sharp, who knows what you could do if I’m incapacitated. I’m encouraged, however, by your choice to do so.”

“Don’t get too excited. This way,” Clarice took another gulp “, when I wind up dead, or worse, _caught_... well, I’ll have somethin’ to blame it on.”

“Dead? Should I be concerned? I certainly don’t plan to kill you, my world would be significantly less fun to know you weren’t out there playing hunter.”

“What makes you think they’d ever assign me to you? After all the... sorry, gotta say it, _bullshit_ you pulled on me this summer? They aren’t going to let me near any file with the name Lecter on it. That’s you, that’s all your fault too.”

“A touch dramatic. I beg to differ, I foresee you on my case almost indefinitely. I’ve never allowed anyone to grow close, they’ll trust your judgement on watching my movements.”

“Mm, a vote of confidence from the man himself. Great, but I can’t put that on my resume, given how illegal this conversation is.”

“ _Enough_ with the black and white of it all. There is a spectrum of grey that you’re willfully overlooking. I am not asking you to lay down your ethics for mine, nor do I wish you to run off into the sunset with me, despite any thoughts I have on such matters. What I am asking is for you to take a step beyond your comfort zone and enjoy a small meal with a work friend. Certainly you’ve done that, shared dinner with a colleague?”

“I feel like you’re _willfully_ missing the point that you are a convicted felon, escaped from a mental hospital, accosting an Bureau agent in her own home. And don’t you dare try to give me some cheeky spin on it, no purple prose, this is exactly what you’re doing and I don’t understand why.”

“Why?”

“Yes! Why _me_? I’ve thought about it, everyday since we met. It’s not lost on me that the first woman they dangle in front of you managed to catch your attention, that much I understand. And people have tried to pretend like they understand too. Jack tells me he does, Ardelia, people who only know me because of the Tattler. But they don’t. A lot of experiences are shared, and we aren’t as special as we think we are, but christ almighty... there aren’t support groups for what I’ve experienced at your hand.”

Doctor Lecter kept cooking, turning head focus to her for just a moment, his eyebrows raised and encouraging her to continue. 

“Why was I so-so-so... god damn _stupid_ to believe the benefit was worth the effort? So, here I am, feeling like the stupid one. Because I fought for this. You have no idea how much grovelling and begging it took to get me that assignment and you’ve made me regret it. Every. Single. Day. I met you once and it was like you _knew_. You knew you had me, and you exploited that, playing quid pro quo as if you cared at all about what I was telling you. You wanted leverage over me, you still want leverage, and I just let you have it because there were lives on the line.”

“You know how I feel about _just_.”

“Oh, shut _up_. Sometimes just means just. A filler word. I let you take advantage because I wanted to save Catherine and you loved every minute of watching me squirm because you’re so... god, so _twisted_. Agreeing to meet with you over that stupid questionnaire was the worst decision I ever made.”

“If interacting with me has been such trouble, let’s remedy that.” Doctor Lecter grabbed the dirty knife from the sink. He wiped off the residual innards of vegetables and droplets of water before flipping the blade into his hands. He extended the knife out to her, resorting to lifting her hand to grasp the handle when she remained still. 

“The Bureau likely hasn’t taught you anything about such, so let me give you a quick lesson,” the Doctor spoke again with fire “, if you want to kill someone with a knife, two points are you best options. Of course, in a knife _fight_ , this wouldn’t be so easy but I’ll allot you this courtesy once. You could stab here.”

He lifted her hand, his warm flesh atop her own, until the knife pricked the skin of his chest through the shirt he had stolen. His other hand came up and snagged her wrist, not tight nor loose, to keep her steady.

“Right in the heart, Clarice. Turn the knife sideways... there you are. You want one firm motion, through the ribs, through the protections of the organ, right through. One motion. Use all your strength.”

Clarice bat her eyes, her mouth slightly open. 

“No? Too much? Fine, we could try it another way. Here,” Doctor Lecter spun on his heels, his back to her “, place the knife just below the hairline. Yes, I feel it there. One fluid motion and you could severe the brain stem. It would be instantaneous, I would feel no pain, if done correctly. I’m afraid those are your options for a quick kill.”

“I don’t want to kill you-“

“No, of course not. Not with a knife, that would be too personal for your sensibilities. You would rather hide behind a gun and space to take lives, while turning up your nose at the methods of the killers _you_ and your superiors deem worthy of killing. Is that it, Clarice? You couldn’t bare to stab me, to see all the little emotions pour out? It would be far easier to see me shot. Or, would my freedom suffice?” Doctor Lecter turned to her, nothing but ice behind maroon eyes. 

“I’d rather shoot someone than take pleasure in their suffering. Sorry I’m not cut out for flaying a human being for _dinner meat_. I guess not everyone can be as superior as the _great_ Doctor Lecter. Sue me for not stabbing you, let’s see how well that pans out.”

“I won’t hinder you, if you wish to take me in. You’re the one with the knife, Clarice. Wield your rage and drive it through. I know you have it in you.”

“When have I ever given you the impression that I want to hurt you at all, let alone kill you? I let you get away with _everything_ in that hospital, when have I ever pushed back?” Clarice turned. With force, she stabbed the knife down into the chopping board, where it remained erect. 

“You didn’t seem to feel that way when you were attempting to hurt my feelings.”

“Hurt your- oh my god. If I was actually trying to hurt your feelings, believe me, it would be immaculate. It wasn’t an attempt, but it sure was successful, given this little temper tantrum.” Clarice pointed to the knife. 

“Who’s having the tantrum now?” Doctor Lecter cocked his head. 

“Both of us, clearly! _Why_ are you here, Doctor?”

“To see you, of course. Why haven’t you done anything to be rid of me?”

“Because I don’t want to and it’s scares the hell outta me!”

Her phone rang. Clarice held her chest before walking over, eyes trained on Doctor Lecter. They stared each other down as the phone rang for the second time. Clarice let her face relax as she took the receiver to her ear. 

“Yup, still alive... uh huh, talk to you in an hour.” 

Clarice slammed the receiver back onto the cradle. She returned to her spot, Doctor Lecter a mere foot in front of her, with no glass or cuffs to keep him separate. They watched each other in the moment, searching for that same energy they held but moments ago. Yet it had passed and all that remained were things better left unsaid for the time. 

Just like that, the heat settled. Clarice let out a long, shaking breath. She turned to the counter, leaning on both elbows as she pawed at her face, eyes shut tight. Doctor Lecter took a step back, and with one inhale and exhale, whatever anger he held seemed to simmer down. 

Clarice held her breath for a beat, turning suddenly to grab a second glass from the shelf. She poured three fingers of wine before sliding it the Doctor’s way. 

“It’s cheap, you’ll absolutely hate it.”

Doctor Lecter looked into his glass before sipping. 

“You are correct, this is _awful_.”

The pair chuckled together. 

“This has been tragic.” Clarice bit at the inside of her cheek. 

“If the Tattler could see us now, bickering like an old married couple.” Doctor Lecter turned his attention back to the wok, seemingly satisfied when he took a small taste. He flicked off the burner and moved the pan to the centre, letting the flavours permeate. 

“Oh, the ten page spread would be phenomenal. Did Barney ever show you some of their pieces? There was an entire page dedicated to which one of us would _wear the pants_. Sexism is alive and well, thriving even, you haven’t missed a thing there.”

“A few of them, Barney and I quite enjoyed a good laugh, but not that in particular. What was the verdict?”

“Me. _Obviously_.” Clarice smirked. 

They clinked their glasses and drank together. 

“I encourage emotional exploration at any turn. It’s thrilling to watch you go _off script_ , as it were.”

“Eh, it’s out of my system now, at least for a few months. The therapist Crawford has set up for me... they’ll be bored, to say the least.”

“Old Jackie boy is forcing you into therapy?”

“Oh yeah, something about working with Doctor Lecter tends to make agents unstable. Can you believe that?” She laughed, genuinely and soft, tucking her now dry hair into a ponytail. 

“If anyone withstood a chance, Agent Starling,” Doctor Lecter smiled too “, would you be so kind as to set the table?”

“Mhmm.”

Doctor Lecter watched her move, biting his tongue at her less than subpar flatware. He realized that his sister had no home within her; Clarice Starling was a volatile force of her own. A revelation a summer in the making and something he always knew, beneath his own whimsical desire. What was astonishing to him was how her value maintained true, that he still desired their complicated tango. 

He closed his eyes for a moment to remember her anger. To recall how her shoulders slouched when she had answered his final question, and how he felt when she let it slip past her lips. It titillated him to recall how she showed no fear in verbally jousting, toe to toe. One of the many things that would forever cement her position within his Memory Palace.


End file.
